Skool dayz!!

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LE

I was expelled from 2 schools by the time I hit the 5th year, it isnt something to be particularly proud of but I had no business being in a private school (an act perpetuated by my parents to reflect their sudden and unexpected catapulting into the middle class) and then putting me in another school that was exclusively for boys (where you had to wear a posh blazer) was again, a huge mistake, a fact that I cemented home by refusing to behave and by causing about as much disruption as possible before being fucked off out the door, I was a pretty quiet kid but very crafty with the ability to cause incidence in an empty room.

My last school though was ace, the teachers were ok, lessons could be fun and you could get away with fucking murder

The Greenhouse

The greenhouse, that had been attached to an empty wing of the schools main building had been out of use for years, was a shit heap of broken glass and rotten wooden frames, it had three huge shelfs running along its span and had some rudimentary gardening tools and a few terracotta pots in various states of disrepair scattered around. Sensing an opportunity and a place to hang out we plotted to take control of the greenhouse and utilise its remoteness in relation to the rest of the school. Mr H*****, the head of the 4th year and a Science Teacher to boot eyed me suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as I excitedly delivered my plans to make full use of the greenhouse and to introduce a wave of colour and photosynthesised niceness to the school, I waxed skillfully that the products of this endeavour would eventually adorn the corridors and walkways of a pretty grim facility and pleaded for some money and some support in getting this project up and running.

To be fair he hated me, I had once given a first year a dead arm of such crippling force he had to go home, unbeknownst to me Mr H***** had been a victim of severe bullying due to his runt like physique and his lazy eye and he duly went spastic at me suspending me for 2 days after giving me half an hour of the hair dryer treatment, I had also been long suspected of tipping a load of iodine into the cunts tropical fish tank killing the fucking lot, the jury was however out as suspicion also fell on a lad who was mooching about the science labs that day on detention and I was in no hurry to correct people (I was also the phantom gas tap saboteur, nipping nimbly into empty labs and flicking the gas taps on and freaking the fucking daylights out of the lab assistants..)

Anyway, funding was agreed with the proviso that we undertook an agreement to turn some old flower beds into a picture of blooming loveliness for which we were given additional pennies.

After a dinner time trip to B and Q (that lasted until 3) we trooped back with a tenners worth of pot plants, a hand trowel, some plastic plant pots, a length of hose and a load of seeds in packets, the remainder of the dosh went on a dinner each at ASDA. Knowing we had to put some effort into the scam to reap its full benefits we, over the course of a couple of days tipped the soil on the bedding and chucked a load of seeds on it then retreated to the greenhouse which now had a few pot plants with flowers in for show and had been swept out and made to look half decent.

Cue the fun.

Now secure in our own private fiefdom we descended into silliness, our numbers swelled and the greenhouse at times was fit to bust. We also developed a 'booking' rota, some of us were already rooting round in girls underwear and would book the greenhouse for some mid afternoon fun, the beauty of it was that you had to make a right racket to get to the greenhouse, you had at least a minute to put out your fag/joint out, ditch your beer/pull your trousers back up (I habitually used it to knock one out as I had been wanking in the school toilets once when 3 heads appeared over the door and walls all pissing theirselves laughing, I nearly didnt live it down..), the trick was to stick your hand in a load of dirt when you heard someone coming then start fucking about with a pot plant, if it was a teacher you were suitably covered, this continued until the last day of term before a glorious 6 weeks of summer off.

It was 'video' day, typical for the last day of term in that you just watched shite PG rated videos like 'BMX Bandits' or the fucking 'Goonies' whilst the teachers hung around in badly fitting courdroy pants and Aran knitwear. Taking advantage of the laxidasical feel of the day 4 of us bedded down in the greenhouse with a load of bottles of 20/20, a lethal sickly sweet concoction that got you pissed as a cunt and a handful of oily Morrocan pot to compliment. To complete our little party we fired up a portable stereo with some techno music and within the hour we were rubbered in a fug of smoke. Unknown to us our absence was noticed, and I mean our 'collective' absence was noticed so the team of staff despatched to recover us knew exactly where to go. By this point I had my tie round my head and had pulled my trousers up above my knees and distinctly remember nodding to the rythmic beat of 2Unlimited when the door burst open and half the fucking staff room burst in. By the luck of the God's the pot was long gone and we'd had the good sense to bin the roaches/rizlas and any other paraphenalia but had neglected to hide the now empty bottles.

It was a show trial. We were all convened in an empty office and our respective parents were called. The bottles were then shown to them and a flurry of administrative action was carried out, the other 3 were to be dealt with on their return to school in September but I like to think of myself as the Andy Dufresne of the Shawshank Redemption and I was to be kept at home after the holidays ending and would be sent my coursework and reading material for the coming exams in the 5th year, this would continue until January when I was finally allowed back..

(And fuck all grew in the flower beds)

Zippo, x 1, for use of, (10p a go)

I was never a proper smoker; I would pull weakly on a Lambert and Butler in a desperate effort to look cool then dramatically blew it all out whilst fighting the urge not to vomit, I once had a go on a roll up on the field with a school slag and promptly went green, spewed all over my Nike Air Maxs then darted home full of shame. Some of my school peers however were seasoned smokers and there were numerous far corners of the schools grounds where these smoke engulfed gangs of kids would huddle together sharing a tab or two.

What surprised me though was the apparent difficulty in those attempting to get served fags in the shops near to school. First evident hurdle would have been the disguising of school tie/uniform, the second being the ditching of your school bag and nine times out of ten the attempts resulted in epic failure. The lucky chap with the prized pack of ten Royals would then be elevated briefly in social status whilst he handed round the rapidly expiring cigarettes.

So I hatched an epic plan to significantly up my delinquent finances.

I was, at the time hanging round with a lad called Danny, a big gangly fucker who was 17 and who had binned school years before and worked part time in a newsagents, he was a child of abuse and the weird cunt used to lay down in the park all night staring up at the stars looking for UFOs, he also fell off some scaffolding once and I suspect he hit every pole on the way down judging by him looking like Pug from the Beano.

A quick chat secured me a pack of 20 every day at full price with the addition of a pound extra per pack that went straight into Daniels pocket (he also let me have the Viz for free each month,....which was nice..)

I shot into school that first day and quickly found those willing to part with a shiny pound coin for 1 x cigarette, a reoccurring theme started though with a look of confusion on the buyers face when they asked, have you got a light?, I hadnt but returned the next day with a Zippo lighter and charged 10 pence for each light usually accompanied by much grumbling and ticking. All in all I was taking in upwards and above of a ton a week, most of which went into a fuck off biscuit tin under my pit that Id rescued from the kitchen cupboard.

All went well, a steady income was maintained, I even branched out and started knocking up huge bags full of badly made roll ups with a load of Old Holborn and firing them out at 50 pence a pop, to be fair, everyone was a winner.

Danny however got greedy, realising I was on to a good thing he upped his charge to £2.00 additional to the cost of every pack and after resisting the urge to pull his big mishapen fucking ears off I went one better. If Daniel gave me a 200 pack Id furnish him with £20.00 every time, now this involved him effectively stealing but judging by the store full of cigs in the back he quickly agreed.

On it progressed and naturally I expanded my stock. Realising Danny was mad for cash I had him nicking all sorts of shit, bumper packs of Galaxy bars, porn mags, cans of coke, stationary ect and I would stop by at 7am when he was stocking the daily papers and load up my school bag with pre-ordered goods before palming him off a couple of notes and heading off.

One Monday morning I was skipping down to the shop, giddy with anticipation at another days trading and walked straight into a couple of Bobbys heading into the shop, sensing danger I hung around outside and watched as the shop owner appeared, I slinked further back into the shadows as Danny then appeared looking crestfallen and was bundled into the police car. I was, by now, shitting it and cringing with fear and went straight home from school, I was that scared I told my older sister who was sympathetic to my tears but who then promptly told my Mum who then told my Dad. Sitting across from him in the kitchen he asked me what had happened and to this day I swear he was half smiling when he said 'deny all knowledge lad', I suspect he didnt have room to talk as he built a firm based on pikey principles and tender process tomfoolery. I did get a police visit but simply stated that I had been buying cigarettes off him for myself, they left, not before pausing to let my parents know that they would be in touch and I was moonwalking and high fiving my way to my bedroom in an abject sort of happiness.

[/I]Porn and an unlikely friendship

Paul was to be fair, a fucking epic geek. He had once shat himself in junior school during a recorder lesson and those that were with him when he started seniors would never let him forget it, his sister had also once apparently tried to wank off a horse whilst helping at a stables (like I said, apparently) and she, like Paul was taunted daily for her perceived and perverted act.

Now I lived near to these 2 weirdoes and more often than not was on the same bus to school in the morning. Paul used to talk incessantly about his Matchbox car collection and she would be staring out the window picking her nose. One particular morning I was preparing to drown him out as I pulled out my walkman with its Chaka Demus and Pliers tape and bright orange headphones when he asked me if I wanted to see something. Expecting him to show me a boil on his back or some other equally bogging thing he dipped into his bag and produced a VHS tape adorned with nothing more than the remnants of a long ago scratched off label.

Suitably interested I enquired as to the content and he simply said shagging, proper shagging, with grownups and stuff, I got it from my Dads cupboard, I actually remember the physical stirring in my crotch and I swiftly borrowed it. It sat in my bag for the next 6 hours and I periodically looked into my rucksack, lightly touching the tape and dreaming of its content whilst my acne strewn face flushed with excitement.

Once home I shot upstairs, bypassing any contact with the entire family and slammed my bedroom door behind me. I wont go into detail but after an hour of watching a porn spoof of Baywatch I was grey in pallor, aching of cock and in desperate need of food and sugar.

I returned the tape the next day and asked if his Dad had any more? Loads said he, and so began our beautiful friendship. I snared him in by asking if he wanted to come round mine and play on my Nintendo, once roped in he was habitually bringing me additional tapes full of hard porn and I lost more hours of my life pulling the head off it at every opportunity.

Sensing a further money making scheme I started to hire out Pauls Dad's bongo movies for a pound a time, after greasing Paul's palm with a few pence on each hire we had a juicy little number going on but as usual some cunt has to spoil it.

We/I had farmed out a couple of skin flicks to a lad called Ryan, the fat shit didnt bring back the tapes and told me his machine had chewed them up, sensing I was being mugged off I belted him right in the mouth then ran off cackling to myself like an utterly shite Tony Montana. Returning to my form tutor for registration I was suddenly pulled to one side by the Deputy Head and the omnipresent Mr H**** of greenhouse fame who marched me to the Head of Years office. I saw Ryan going the other way mopping his split lip with a teacher who slung me the daggers.

'Empty your bag' was the simple instruction, I knew I had no chance and tipped out 3 VHS tapes full of smut, 60 fags, a zippo lighter and a load of porn mags, cue 2 week suspension and sent to the bottom set for the core subjects for 3 months which seemed a tad unfair as I was top set in most areas, I went from reading Shakespeare with the brainy bunch to sitting in stupefying silence watching a full class of bottom set dribblers reading aloud from an educational comic. The fucking horror.

The meeting held with my parents in attendance wasnt the most pleasent of experiences, my Mum visibly shook when the porn was discussed and the fire in my Dads eyes throughout was 'orrid! The ride home was silent and I was just told to go upstairs and stay there, I was then informed I was to have counselling to address my behavioural problems and I had a home visit with a nervy fucker with bad dandruff and shifty eyes, he only came once and declared me 'ok'..

Lets be honest, school was fucking ace, amongst the scraps, awkward fumbles, detentions, truancy and general tomfoolery I struggle to find things I didnt like.
More memorable moments?

Mr M****, a short bald chap who taught I.T. and who was inexplicably fancied by most of the girls, his tenure was short lived after he was found half naked with a fit as fuck 6th former in his store, the lucky, lucky bastard, she had a mass of thick black curly hair and had shown my mate Col her big bushy fanny when they were both on the biff from P.E. I saw Mr M at the local swimming baths a year after I'd joined up and he was just hanging round the cafe looking down at all the people swimming, I couldnt help it and shouted 'dirty bastard' before disappearing.

Or James C, who got on the bus one morning and slid a bottle of Gordons Gin out of his bag, I had a sip, promptly gagged, then encouraged him to drink as much as he could, he staggered into the first lesson, fired up his Bunsen burner then got his head to close to the flame, up went his liberally lacquered hair and he burnt the full side of his face, he turned to look at me straight away and just fish mouthed some silent words at me before falling to the floor, in came the ambulance and out went James

Stealing an entire roll of free school dinner tickets from the Bursars Office, there were loads of them in an open cabinet and I ate well for a couple of months until the books didnt tally up and the hunt was on for the then mythical 'purple roll of free dinner tickets'.

Or the 3 desperados who one night burnt down the new computer wing by setting light to the curtains after breaking the windows, cue full police presence the next day and a special assembly held that resembled a Nazi Rally with much shouting, threatening and warnings to those either involved or in the know that retribution awaited as it surely did for the 2 lads arrested leaving the scene. (Im glad I fucked off when the first curtain went up! )

LE

LE

Our School was the worst in the area were all the fuckwits who got kicked out of other schools in the local authority catchment area would end up. You soon learned what teachers you could get away with murder with.

One teacher was OK and we had him for tech studies but we got bored so locked him out the classroom when he went for a slash. He tried getting back in via the other door to the room but we'd soon lock that as well. In the end we let him back in only for him to sit at his desk and burst into tears. Another teacher had a miscarriage only for her to return and during a lesson someone start singing rock a by baby and swinging their arms as if hold a baby only to should fuck weres the baby gone.....she ran out the class crying.

I can remember getting kicked out of class in 5th year for fucking around during some cooking lesson with my mate. We quickly found that the room we were placed into had the box full of the outfits for the school play stored in it. Sensing a bit of mischeif the two of us the lagged over the outfits both of us were desperate for a slash so the outfits got a good soaking.

We learned to theive from the school canteen until it got so bad it just turned into a free for all and they had to pull the shutters down. There's another arrser who was at the school at the same time and can tell similar tales. I'll post more later if I can be arsed.

ADC

Like you I was packed off to a private school where the ethos was 'building character' rather than academic achievement. Which was just as well since we were taught by a right bunch of useless tosspots.

Fast forward to 5th year Parents Day. All the soppy cunts were doing a gym display on the lawn and the Outdoor Activities Group had been tasked to do a mountain rescue simulation down 4 floors of the front of the building. So we bullied a 3rd year to get trussed up in ropes and be lowered down (by other 5th formers who couldn't be arsed to belay on, but just let the poor fucker down hand over hand) while me and my mate Paddy abseiled down either side to keep him steady.

We practiced for a week and wore out one or two 3rd formers, then came the big day. And it lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. So we hijacked a 3rd former, punched a hole in the collar of his uniform jacket with a piton and hung him from the wether vane, spun out over a 300 foot drop. Then we abseiled down the front of the school to massive applause.

Somebody must of swung the poor bastard back in and unhooked him since I do not recall being done for murder.

I'm gonna tell you how it's gonna be. You're gonna make sweet love to me.Sun Tzu. The Art of War

GCM

We had a lad in my year at school who had polio which basically made him walk like a penguin (He was named Willie wobble ). Because of this he used to get out of class 5 minutes before the bell went so he would not be knocked over in the ensuing rush.
He used to be absent quite often because of his illness, so of course, when we had a stand in teacher I suddenly became Willie. Not content with missing the last 5 minutes of class, I decided to share the wealth and tell the teacher that because of 'my worsing condition' that I neaded someone to carry my bag. My best mucker obviously was that person and I used to wobble out of the class with muffled laughter ringing around me. Cue the stand in teacher giving everyone a stern lecture on laughing at those 'less able-bodied then yourselves'.

LE

Much of it is a blur but particular good memories include; smashing up the newly built toilet block by playing indoor shotput, riding a motorised scooter down the hall while being chased by my fat RE teacher, firing an air rifle at a clock that was hanging right above my German teacher's head, breaking a girls nose with a frisbee, letting off an IED inside my locker and bullying a shy and timid music teacher until she had a nervous breakdown and quit teaching forever.

I surely would have been expelled for my antics, had it not been for the fact that I had developed a fool proof way of carrying out any crime I wished, completely undetected. Our school worked on a referral system. Referrals were dished out for any minor offence, from having an untucked shirt to failing to submit homework, if you got three referrals you got a detention, if you got three detentions you got suspended.

Referrals were written out by your subject teacher and put into your form's register, it was your form tutor's responsibility to collect the register from reception each morning and tally up how many referrals were inside. Within days of starting secondary school, I worked out that if I got in early and picked up the register for our lazy teacher, I could intercept any referrals that were coming my way, likewise I could ditch referrals that were destined for my mates. It also had the added benefit of giving my form tutor the false impression that I was a good kid who liked to help out.

Win.

Basically this meant I could act as much of a cunt as I wanted, safe in the knowledge that I'd never get caught. Amazingly it worked for the entire duration of my schooling and I breezed through, managing to scrape in some fairly average GCSEs along the way.

If I could go back for a day, I'd apologise to the ex Royal Artillery caretaker for nicking all his tools and giving him constant shit about his lowly position in life and the fact that his wife was dying of cancer, I'd bang Rachel C**, who I new was up for it but never had the guts to take any further and I'd shop Mr Be****y to the old bill for touching up little girls, the dirty old cunt.

LE

Another trick was to either steal egg/flour or just hawk up a greenie and stand at the top of the stairs hang over them and look downwards (there was a gap between them andthe glass fronted part of the building) Which gave a great view of the doors which you could drop your weapon of choice onto the folk below.

Another time it was funny asking someone were they and his mates gangbanging his sister at lunchtime over the golf course opposite the school he hit the fucking roof and went off like a mongo on beserker mode.

LE

Fuck me. I suspect myself, Hector, miner, Ravers and Mr Deputy are all the same age as we endlessly seem to share the same stories.

BMX's, 20/20, 2 Unlimited and leaving gas taps open seem to be a common theme whenever I talk to someone my age about school.

By my 5th year we had moved to Nottingham and selling cigs was for fucking Mary's. My new pals were all from St Anns and Sneinton areas and were either from broken homes that they had broken themselves or little wannabe gangsters on their way to their first spell in Glen Parva youth offenders clink. Weed was the way forward for us and we made a fortune until my mates older brother who was our supplier met the business end of a cricket bat and emptied his head out onto the pavement outside an Afro Caribbean club. Good job really as I smoked more that I sold.

Selling cigs Hector? Fucking Gonch Gardner walt!

Steven Seagull is a rotten, internet bully, a seventh generation ****, he was born in a state of misery, half-cooked with a mean streak a mile wide. Over the years he has developed a passion for human oddities, presdigitation, tattooing and torture.

LE

I am ashamed to say I did the same to our highly strung French teacher, she didnt help herself with her low slung tops and lack of bra, she was fucking boot ugly but I could squeeze out my glue with just the slightest hint of South facing nipple. She went off with stress and returned with fire in her belly and an evident desire to teach again, we soon metaphorically slapped that out of her and she disappeared for good that Christmas.

LE

We had a lad in my year at school who had polio which basically made him walk like a penguin (He was named Willie wobble ). Because of this he used to get out of class 5 minutes before the bell went so he would not be knocked over in the ensuing rush.
He used to be absent quite often because of his illness, so of course, when we had a stand in teacher I suddenly became Willie. Not content with missing the last 5 minutes of class, I decided to share the wealth and tell the teacher that because of 'my worsing condition' that I neaded someone to carry my bag. My best mucker obviously was that person and I used to wobble out of the class with muffled laughter ringing around me. Cue the stand in teacher giving everyone a stern lecture on laughing at those 'less able-bodied then yourselves'.

On the subject of bullying kids with learning difficulties, we had a blind girl in the year below called Izzy. She wasn't the sort of normal blind kid who is basically the same as everyone else but without eyesight, no, she was the sort of blind kid who'd been born that way through some genetic defiency, she had deep set eye sockets and a touch of the mlaaar about her. She also had a permanent demented grin planted on her grid whether she was happy or not. She probably shouldn't have been at a mainstream school but somehow she found herself in amongst the baying pack of little shits that went to mine.

Anyway, due to her childlike brain, it was very easy to manipulate her and make her do funny shit. It started out fairly harmlessly like directing her the wrong way around the school, or convincing her that it was a non uniform day etc. One day we got her to ask the science teacher for an orgasm.

It was my mate Andy who discovered that she had the loudest, funniest retarded laugh in the World. Capitalising on this newly found knowledge, we endeavoured to make her giggle at any available opportunity, usually in exams or during assembly.

The crowning moment in all this, was when two of the sixth formers died in a car accident. Quite tragic really, they were good kids but as all teenage lads tend to do, they drove like cunts and ended up ploughing off a bridge into a canal. We had a memorial assembly with the local mayor and the lad's parents in tow. Hymns were sung, poems were read etc. I think there may have even been a memorial sappling or something.

Anyway at the end of the beautiful service, there was a two minute silence. Noticing that Izzy was sat just infront of me, I sensed an opportunity. I leant forward and made a quiet fart noise in Izzy's ear. She started to giggle. I made a slightly louder fart noise and that was it, she was gone.

While the rest of the school sat in silence, heads bowed, gathering their thoughts, Izzy sat there howling with her distinctive foghorn laugh. It was fucking epic and everytime she began to contain herself, I just made another quite fart noise and off she went again, louder than before. The whole school looked at her with scorn and one of the lad's mums started to cry.

Eventually the teachers came over and Izzy was guided out of the room. She was shipped off to a full on school for 'tards after that little incident.

LE

I'm sure every school had the semi posh brainy kid, not a geek as such, always had his blazer done up come rain or shine, used wear his tie the right way round with a big knot, which at the time was deeply uncool. Likewise the uniform was grey or black socks so everyone wore white or day glow odd socks, he would wear the correct item of clothing, to finish off the look he came to school with a brief case.
This made up up near the top of the table most irritating cunts in the school.
Cue the geography field trip to town, something to do with building uses, but equaled everybody who wasn't a twat headed to Maccy D's for the duration. Myself and mates had done a brief look at a few buildings and decided to make the rest up. Nipped into a chemist for a can on the way to MD's, where I discovered Epsom Salts, that apparently are tasteless and dissolve easily in any liquid, a plan hatched.

Sure enough posh geek trots into MD's having actually done the survey, gets his meal and sits away from the rest of us. I manage to get the year's slag to go and grab him and play fight, while I delivered the dose of Epsom salts to his unattended coke, no idea the dose just pour some in see what happens.
We all get back to school for afternoon lessons, nothing has happened during the lunch so I go to my next class a bit disappointed.
Posh geek is in the classroom next door, and decides to let out a small cheeky fart. I would imagine his ring was acting like a blow off valve at the time cos' once he started, he couldn't stop, the look on the kids face sat next to him was apparently a picture.
He had the next week off school with a mysterious stomach complaint.

Said geek now works for some government think tank advising on something or other.

LE

I have 'unliked' your post as anyone that puts 'erroneous comma' in their reason for editing block is a big smelly poo pants.

Oh and your mum.

Steven Seagull is a rotten, internet bully, a seventh generation ****, he was born in a state of misery, half-cooked with a mean streak a mile wide. Over the years he has developed a passion for human oddities, presdigitation, tattooing and torture.

LE

I went to school in South East London, Other than a few murders, a suicide, paedophile cases, drugs and a shit loads of slags getting pregnant and a music teacher who like her lovers young it was a normal school. I had a blast.

LE

I am ashamed to say I did the same to our highly strung French teacher, she didnt help herself with her low slung tops and lack of bra, she was fucking boot ugly but I could squeeze out my glue with just the slightest hint of South facing nipple. She went off with stress and returned with fire in her belly and an evident desire to teach again, we soon metaphorically slapped that out of her and she disappeared for good that Christmas.

Our teacher, Miss White, was a fresh out of uni, typically awkward and geeky music teacher, she had buck teeth and massive droopy tits. She had also had a fucking annoying, high pitched monotone voice, a bit like Anne Robinson. She pissed me off from day one when she had the audacity to make me play some shite three chord song on a cheap Spanish guitar about a little boat.

I was better than that, my old man had been in a proper chad heavy metal band in the eighties and had played some minor festivals and even been on the Radio 1 rock show. Some of his talent had clearly rubbed off and I could play the opening bit of Stairway by the time I was 10.

So after telling Miss White that her song and guitars were shit, I was forced to perform like a seal infront of the other kids. From that day forward I decided to exact my revenge and basically spent the next year tormenting her, sabotaging the instruments in her room, spitting in her tea and leaving cat shit in her drawer. A few times I really made her look a cunt by pointing out that she'd got the guitar chords wrong. Eventually the other kids joined in and within a few weeks she had completely lost control of the class. Our year 7 music lessons decended into utter chaos, with a load of 12 year olds banging the shit out of school instruments for an hour, while I smugly sat in the corner watching Miss White in complete despair.

A few other teachers noticed her lack of control and she ended up on a warning or something after a stern talking to from the head. She tried to get a bit stricter from then on, dolling out referrals and what not, but I'd already covered that base (see earlier thread). Her new found hard teacher persona made no odds and we could essentially do what we liked in her lessons. She'd just sit there in silence watching her career decend into the toilet while 30 kids ran riot in her classroom.

One day she didn't turn up for class and the head teacher explained that she was 'unwell' and was taking some time off. She never came back. I saw her a few years later driving a shitty little Korean car with a haunted look in her eyes.